


In Which Veers and Vader Discover That They Have Something in Common (aka adventures in grandparenting)

by that_local_criptid



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Crack Treated Seriously, I literally just wanted overprotective alpha father Vader and somehow ended up with this, In this house we do a/b/o in a godly way, Mpreg, No this does not have any porn, Omega Luke Skywalker, Post-Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back, Yes this is a/b/o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_local_criptid/pseuds/that_local_criptid
Summary: General Veers had been having a relatively good day.Then he found out that his rebel son had reproduced.He can't decide if it gets better or worse after that.Aka Luke and Zev have a daughter, Vader is a very proud, if angry, grandparent, Veers would just really like a drink, and Piett would very much like to excluded from this narrative.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader & Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader & Maximilian Veers, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker/Zevulon Veers, Maximilian Veers & Zevulon Veers
Comments: 20
Kudos: 358





	In Which Veers and Vader Discover That They Have Something in Common (aka adventures in grandparenting)

**Author's Note:**

> Have 10000 words of Veers' freaking out. Hope you enjoy it.

Veers had been having a relatively good day, which really should have been the first warning that something was going to go very wrong. For the first time in months, they had made it to near midday without Vader strangling anyone. Then they had stumbled upon a small Rebel cell, located on the moon of a small rim planet and clearly not expecting them, and after weeks without anything to fire at his troops had been more than eager.

It was unfortunate that many of the Rebels had managed to escape, but Veers doubted that the ships they had been on would survive long in hyperspace with the damage they had caused. There was only a single X-wing left, its astromech destroyed and clearly having some sort of engine trouble and unable to enter lightspeed.

Before he had the opportunity to tell the ship to surrender, or even consider doing so, there was the familiar sound of crackling as a transmission was received.

“Oh please,” a voice said, clearly that of a droid. “Don’t shoot! There is only me on board now! And a young human child! You have already taken my closest friend and I don’t want to die!”

Next to him, one of Piett’s eyebrows went up, sending him a look of doubt, the meaning clear. It _could_ be a trap. After all, who would be so foolish as to bring a child into a war? There had been many similar situations before, when the Empire had shown sympathy, only for the ship to dock and explode, taking out the docked fleet.

If Vader was here, he would undoubtedly tell them to fire. Unfortunately or fortunately, Vader was currently in his chambers, undoubtedly in one of his weird trances.

“This is General Veers,” he finally said. The responsibility really should be Piett’s, but the man seemed to be even more stuck on this than he was. He gestured to one of the men near the scanner, pointing towards the ship, and he received the message. “Do you have an identification number? What is the child’s name?”

“Oh thank the maker!” the droid said, sounding hysterical. It really would be easier to just blow it up, Veers thought vaguely. Vader would undoubtedly be pissed if he discovered that this conversation ever took place. “Are you any relation to Zevulon Veers, of the Rebellion?”

Veers felt his heart jump in his chest at the worlds, shock overcoming him. One of Piett’s eyes twitched, the only sign he was shocked at the name, and Veers could feel the eyes of the crew on the back of his neck. For Veers’ himself, he felt as if his stomach took a dive, and he suddenly had a very, very bad feeling about this.

“Why is that of any relevance?” he said, but part of him already knew what the answer would be.

 _His child_ would be foolish enough to bring a child into this war.

“The child is his offspring,” the droid said, before continuing, seemingly unaware of how he seemed to have set off an explosion underneath Veer’s feet. “And she is going to give me _far_ too many loose wires if I have to care for her for much longer.”

Besides him, Piett’s other eye had begun to twitch, and Veers personally felt that he, himself, should be given a pass from responding even as the droid continued to babble. The crew’s eyes were still on the back of his neck, and despite the fact all he wanted to do was sit down, with a nice, stiff drink, he forced himself to stand up, hoping the crew didn’t notice how he was bracing himself on the computer.

It could still be a trap. In fact, it was _more_ likely to be a trap. What were the chances that they just happened upon his son’s child on a broken ship? It would be so, _so_ much easier if it was a trap.

“General?” a voice said from behind him, and he turned to see the man who he had ordered to scan the Rebel’s X-wing. “Our scanners are only picking up a small humanoid on the ship. There are no other lifeforms on board, sir.”

Kriffing hell. He should have known that the day had been going too well. 

* * *

His granddaughter was a tiny thing with bright blue eyes and blonde hair, and if Veers hadn’t seen the DNA test results himself he wouldn’t believe that this was his grandchild. However, he had, and all he could focus on was how _skinny_ this child was. 

The Rebellion was clearly in a worse state than he thought if they were unable to feed or care for such a tiny child. She was dressed in what appeared to be an adult’s bright orange pilot’s suit, only with its legs and arms trimmed for her shorter limbs and a black leather belt tied around her waist. The only fat on the girl was her cheeks, which only meant that the glare she was sending his way made her look laughable. If he was being kinder, he might have considered it adorable.

“What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t change her expression, but instead began to suck on a necklace which hung around her neck. Veers wondered if he should be pulling it away from her, but it seemed too large to choke on. Zev, and whoever else had been stupid enough to bring this child into a war, clearly hadn’t thought it a danger.

Not that that said much, obviously.

“What’s your name?” he asked again.

“Papa says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

Veers could certainly agree with that piece of advice, considering that _his_ son talking to strangers, more particularly Rebels, was how they got into this mess.

“Well I’m not a stranger, am I?” he said, reaching forward to pull the necklace out of her mouth, ignoring the slobber. The necklace might appear too big to choke on, but Veers had seen too many people be strangled to death to risk it. The girl tightened her grip on the cord around her neck before he could take it from her entirely, so he continued speaking, “I’m your grandfather.”

The girl stared at him, clearly unsure what he meant, so he continued.

“I am your Papa’s,” and god wasn’t that strange, thinking about his son as old enough to have a child of his own. He swore only yesterday he had been cleaning diapers. “Papa. Your papa is my son, like you are his daughter.”

The girl’s face had brightened at his explanation, leaning forward to trace his face with one of her fingers. Veers almost pushed the hand away, but at the girl’s eager face he allowed it to continue. 

Eventually, the girl stopped, apparently having come to a conclusion, and nodded, “I’m Amira.” 

A Nabooan name then. A strange choice for his son who so despised anything to do with the Emperor, but perhaps the girl’s mother had come from there.

“What’s _your_ name?” she asked.

“My name is Maximillian,” he ignored the way Amira made a face at that, continuing, half hesitant, “But you can call me grandpa, if you’d like.”

If nothing else, it’d probably be easier for her to pronounce than Maximillian. 

“Where’s Papa?” the girl asked, her voice trembling, and Veers felt his stomach dive. 

The girl’s bright blue eyes were staring at him, curiously. Worried. Veers forced a smile upon his face. 

“You’re going to be staying with me for a little while, Amira.”

The girl nodded, seeming to understand. 

“While Papa’s away on a mis’on?”

“Yes, while your Papa is away on a mission.”

“He’ll be back soon?” she asked, and Veers had the feeling she was undoubtedly parroting words she’d heard before. When Veers didn’t respond, she repeated, more nervous than before, “He’ll be back soon?”

Veers meant to reassure the girl, but as he stared at her wide blue eyes the words stuck in his throat. What was he meant to say? That Veers wasn’t sure if she would ever see her father again? He couldn’t exactly allow the girl to return to the Rebellion. 

The door to his chambers opened and Piett walked in, carrying what looked to be a pile of blankets and clothes and nervously glancing at the girl, amusing Veers. Piett might be able to stare into Darth Vader's face without flinching, but mentioning going to visit the man's nephews always put fear into his eyes.

“I managed to find some supplies for you,” he said, placing them on the table. 

“When I asked you to organise things to be sent up here I meant to tell someone else to do it," Veers responded, grateful nevertheless to see the admiral's face. "It’s a bit below your pay grade.”

“And miss the opportunity to meet the granddaughter of General Veers? Never.”

Veers felt a small smile on his face. He didn’t have many friends aboard this ship, or anywhere really, but Piett was likely the closest he had to it.

“Amira, this is Admiral Piett," he said, placing a hand on his grandaughter's shoulder to guide her closer. "Admiral, this is my granddaughter, Amira.”

Piett smiled, still looking slightly terrified as he pulled a soft toy from the pile of blankets to offer to the girl. 

“You can have this, if you’d like. I got it for my nephews but they are getting far too old.”

The girl reached forward, grabbing the toy and pulling it to her chest and offering the Admiral a small smile. 

“Say thank you, Amira.” 

And how quickly one fell back into the habits of parenthood, Veers marvelled briefly. 

“Thank you, A’miral Peet.” 

Piett’s smile looked a little less forced as he stood back up.

“I need to be getting back to the Bridge,” he said, “General, let me know if you need anything.”

The door slid open and Piett disappeared from view as he quickly as he had appeared, leaving Veers alone again with his granddaughter.

"What do you you enjoy doing, Amira?" Veers eventually asked. The girl sent him a confused glance, so he continued, "Do you like dolls? Painting?"

He prayed it wasn't painting. He couldn't deal with that amount of mess again. Finger painting might be an 'art', but it had also left paint marks all over his white walls.

"Me and daddy made mud castles yesterday," she eventually offered, and oh kriff, that might be even worse than finger painting. 

Before he had the chance to ask her if she had any other, _cleaner_ , hobbies he was distracted by a rumbling noise, and Veers glanced down to stare at his granddaughter, silently relieved at the distraction. Food was something he could deal with. The time zone of the planet she had been on was quite similar to that of the Imperial Centre, and it was getting late in the evening. He might be used to eating meals at strange hours, but hopefully Zev had the young girl on some semblance of a routine. 

“Hungry?” he asked the toddler, who hesitantly nodded back to him, clutching the toy to her chest.

Twenty minutes later, a trooper arrived carrying food. The tray with the smaller servings had a glass of milk on it. Clearly rumours of the girl had already begun spreading throughout the ship Veers mused, as he placed the food in front of on the table, before placing several cushions on a chair so she could reach it.

“Blue milk?” the girl eventually asked hopefully after staring at the plate in front of her for several long seconds, turning her clear blue eyes on him.

Veers barely restrained himself from wrinkling his nose at the question. Blue milk was what one could kindly refer to as an _acquired taste_ , and one that Veers certainly didn’t have. 

“There’s not going to be any blue milk today,” he said. “But you can have some normal milk instead.”

“I have blue milk with dinner,” the girl insisted, looking as if she might cry. “I _always_ have blue milk with dinner. Papa always gives me blue milk with dinner.”

“Amira, there is no blue milk aboard this ship. You can have normal milk, or nothing at all.”

The girl stared at him for a long second, her bright blue eyes watery, before she spoke again, her voice stern.

“You _will_ get me blue milk.”

Veers froze, staring at the girl. There’d be an emphasis on those words, and Veers did not want to consider what it might mean, or what the child might be trying to do. It was no secret what happened to those who shared the same powers as Darth Vader, and he didn’t even want to consider what would happen to the girl if she truly did have them. 

_Surely not_ , he decided. He could remember when Zev had been this age; his wife had always said he was testing his boundaries, trying to figure out what his place in the world was. She’d also always said that he’d grow out of it.

Zev definitely hadn’t.

“Amira, you are not getting blue milk. If you are not going to drink the milk you have, I will take it away.”

The girl glared at him for another few seconds, her eyes still watering as Veers worried he was going to have to deal with her crying, before she grabbed the cup of milk, staring at it mistrustfully before taking a sip. Veers barely restrained himself from letting out a sigh of relief. Soon the girl was finished, left only with a milk mustache on her upper lip. 

This time he couldn’t restrain the sigh, glancing around the room to find a serviette and reaching into his pockets to find nothing. Internally cursing himself for not thinking to bring anything to clean the girl up with, he reached out, using the cuff of his uniform to clean the girl’s upper lip.

For the first time, his granddaughter smiled at him, and Veers decided then and there that whatever trouble the girl brought with her was definitely worth it.

* * *

Amira might not physically look anything like Zev, but Veers decided pretty quickly that she made up for it in other ways. Such as stubbornness.

“Auntie Leia does my hair different,” the girl said, for possibly the fifth time, and Veers had to resist the urge to start beating his head against the wall of the ship. If he dented it, Piett would undoubtedly kill him, but perhaps it would be worth it to escape the knowledge that apparently Zev was close enough to Princess Leia of Alderaan that his daughter called her _Auntie Leia_ . At least the girl hasn’t mentioned any _Uncle Luke’s_ yet.

He had spent years wondering where his son was in the Rebellion, and the answer, as he had suspected all along, was _right in the thick of things_.

“I do not have the same abilities as your _auntie Leia,_ Amira,” he said instead. He had attempted braiding the long blonde hair only to make it a bigger tangle than it had been previously, and considering the state of the girl’s bedhead, that had been impressive. “And I don’t doubt that her hair styles take a lot of time to create, time that we _don’t have_.”

The girl stared at him in the reflection of the mirror, and Veers had the distinct feeling he was being judged. It wasn’t even a feeling, he _knew_ he was - he was receiving the exact same stare that his wife and son gave him whenever they had thought what he was saying was bullshit. 

She would be right too. Veers had requested several days off to figure out what to do with the girl, and since he hadn’t taken a vacation in years the doctor had been more than eager to sign off on him, encouraging him to ‘relax’ for a few days.

He had only spent half a day with the girl and he felt more exhausted than he could remember for any time in the last twenty years. The protocol droid she had been found with - easily the most anxious droid he had ever met, he definitely never wanted to meet whoever made it, they very clearly had some issues - was right to say that she had been causing him loose wires. Veers certainly felt like he had a few loose wires himself. 

He finished brushing out the hair again, but this time didn’t even bother braiding it, instead grabbing the pieces that hung around her face and tying them in a knot behind her head. The girl shot him another unimpressed stare, but didn’t argue with him. 

He had also ordered the smallest clothes they could find on such short notice to his quarters, leaving the girl dressed in grey and white. The sleeves and legs had still needed to be cut short, and the clothes were still laughably large on her, and now her hair was a complete mess. The strange wooden necklace still hung around her neck, the cord it hung on moist from saliva, and Piett’s stuffed toy was clutched in her arms, already missing an ear. In conclusion, she looked like a vagabond, but at least she was no longer dressed in bright rebel orange.

Eventually, he managed to get out of his chambers, _without the stuffed toy Piett had given her_ , almost breathing a sigh of relief as they left the cramped space behind. He had never had any trouble with the size of his quarters before, but his granddaughter's questions had quickly begun to make it feel smaller than it truly was.

“What are we doin’?”

“We are going to the doctor’s for a checkup,” he said. He carefully didn’t mention the vaccinations which the doctor had planned for the child, all too aware of the hatred which many young children harboured for them. 

Travelling through space meant exposure to many different bacterias, and everyone, particularly young children with still developing immune systems, were at constant threat from the illnesses that they brought. He doubted considering the state of Amira’s clothing that the rebels had the same easy access to vaccines as they did - especially not the ones that the Empire had only recently developed. A few jabs seemed a fair price to play for her continued health. 

Amira, however, had frozen at his statement, standing directly in the middle of one of the busiest corridors on the Executor with an absolute look of horror on her face.

“I don’t want to go to back to the doctors!” the girl exclaimed. 

Several of the passing troopers glanced at him, and unless he was mistaken one of them let out a noise that sounded _far_ too much like a laugh. Veers reached down to grab one of his granddaughter's hands, attempting to pull her along.

“Amira, we are going to go to the doctors so they can just check you over,” Veers urged, leaving the _and give you a couple of shots_ silent. “You’ll be completely alright.”

Tears continued to well up in granddaughter’s eyes, her feet still firmly planted on the floor of the corridor. He could feel the eyes of the troopers on his back, and was debating the merits of carrying her when he heard a familiar, loud, breathing.

“I already _went_ -”

“Amira,” he said, cutting her off. Vader hadn’t moved behind him, and he could only pray that the man might consider the situation beneath him and ignore it. His heavy breathing still filled the corridor, but Amira seemed ignorant to the tension in the air, the troopers all having run off leaving only them and Vader.

“I want to go home,” the girl cried, her voice growing into a warble, and oh kriff there was no way that Vader would ignore this. The man had, on occasion, executed people for _coughing._ “I want my daddy.”

The sound of breathing grew behind them, before, inevitably, “General Veers, explain why there is a child aboard my ship?”

He had been around Vader long enough to know that the man expected the truth, directly, and without any pretty words about it.

“She is my granddaughter, my Lord.”

Vader was silent for several seconds, before he continued, his voice dangerous. 

“The offspring of your Rebel son?”

Kriff. He had hoped that Vader might not know of his son’s allegiances, but the man knew everything that happened on this ship, he would have been shocked if he hadn’t.

“Yes, my lord,” when the only sound was Vader’s breathing, Amira apparently having decided to finally fall quiet, he hastened to continue. “She was picked up in the attack against the Rebel’s yesterday. I had my request for several days off to sort out her situation approved. I am planning to take her to a family member on Denon.”

The thought, embarrassingly, hadn’t actually occurred to him, he hadn’t been able to get past the thoughts of _oh god I have a granddaughter_ and _oh god I have an idiot for a son._ But he knew Vader would appreciate the semblance of a plan.

“You have been allowing the child of a rebel to walk around my ship, freely.”

The man didn’t sound angry, more, he sounded completely disbelieving.

“I have been accompanying her at all times, but yes, my Lord.”

“You were intentionally keeping her from me?”

This time Veers didn’t answer immediately, hesitating, unsure. It wasn’t that he had purposely been keeping the girl’s existence from the Commander purposely, but more so because it was just inconvenient to tell him. The girl had arrived dressed in rebel orange, and talked of _Auntie Leia’s_. 

His silence was answer enough, though.

He could feel the ghost of fingers around his throat, and oh god this was how he was going to go. He had always assumed it would be in a fight for the Empire, against the Rebellion, but no, it would be because his son had gone and reproduced.

And Amira. If she survived this, she would undoubtedly be traumatised. He didn’t want to bring Vader’s attention back to the girl, but unwillingly his eyes moved to her. She was standing a few feet away from him, her hand wrapped around that necklace, and her eyes watering. All he wanted to do was tell her to turn away from this or run but the words stuck in his throat. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, though, in the hours since he had met his granddaughter it had become clear that one thing she didn’t lack was words. Common sense perhaps, but she certainly didn’t lack for words.

“I want my daddy!” the girl cried again, “I want to go _home_.”

Vader’s attention turned back to the girl, and he took an aggressive step towards the small child, who was staring back defiantly, quite possibly about to start screaming. Through his gasped breaths, Veers tried to murmur words of assurance to the girl, pleading with her to be quiet.

But Vader had stopped frozen in midair, staring at the girl in what could only be disbelief. The corridor was silent, absent from Vader’s breathing, the man staring intently at his granddaughter. Or, more particularly, the necklace that hung around her neck, grasped in her right hand.

“Where did you get that necklace?”

Amira glared back at Vader, small fingers tightening around the pendant.

“I want to go _home_.”

“My Lord, please,” Veers managed. Vader’s breathing had returned, but the man’s remained fixed on the girl. “She is just a child. She doesn’t know anything about the Rebellion, she -”

“I _don’t_ care about the Rebellion, General.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. Something was _very_ wrong. As long as anyone had known him, Vader had been attempting to destroy the Rebellion. He doubted that Vader cared about anything else. 

“I care about _that necklace_.”

What?

A few moments passed, in which Amira tightened her grip on the necklace, and Vader took another menacing step closer to the girl. She didn’t loosen her grip on the necklace however, only tightening it further.

“That necklace belonged to my wife,” Vader said, his breathing even louder than usual. And oh.

Oh dear god. 

Had Zev run off with Vader’s _wife_?

He might have run off with the Rebellion, but Veers thought he had at least raised his son to have _some_ common sense. 

He hadn’t even been aware that Vader was married. He couldn’t even _imagine_ his superior married, and briefly Veers wondered who on earth Vader’s wife had been. Was it someone with the same type of anger as him? Had they bonded over strangling people? The thought made Veers shudder, wondering what kind of offspring Darth Vader would produce. Or perhaps it had been a political marriage with no actual love between the two?

That was perhaps _slightly_ better.

His son had always been a romantic. Running off with a woman stuck in a loveless marriage did seem like something he would do, though he doubted Vader would appreciate that insight. Veers suspected he should be grateful if he survived this encounter, with it being his offspring that seemed to have run off with his superior’s wife.

“Maybe it is a duplicate, my Lord?”

“No,” Vader said, letting out another heavy breath as he stared at the necklace. “I made this necklace with my own hands. I would know it anywhere.”

 _Oh._ Well there went that theory. The thought of the fearsome, gigantic man making that tiny necklace almost seemed laughable, as it did that Vader loved someone, but it was undoubtedly clear that he had loved whoever he made that necklace for. Vader angry was one thing, but Vader in love was something he had absolutely no idea how to deal with. 

And oh kriff that explained things. His granddaughter - _Vader’s stepdaughter_ , a voice whispered semi hysterically - seemed to be nearing four years old. It had been over four years since Vader had started strangling people with an entirely new enthusiasm. He had assumed, that though the number of deaths had only begun to grow a few months after the Death Star’s destruction, it had been latent anger at that and growing frustration that the beta pilot who had done the deed, Skywalker, continued to elude them. But now, there was a three year old, a runaway wife, _his kriffing son_ , and a timeline that added up far too well. 

Goddamnit Zev.

He had known from the moment that his son had joined the Rebellion that he would be under fire from the Emperor. He just had never expected that Vader himself would be leading the hunt for him.

Veers hoped they let the girl live. She was an innocent in all of this, and perhaps if he survived he could raise her. Perhaps he could simply resign from the Military, instead of being executed. He could take the girl back to Denon, and raise her there, and never let her get involved in all of the Rebel nonsense which had stolen her father from him. 

Briefly, Veers wondered if Vader would argue for custody as her stepfather. He certainly hoped not. He rather doubted that he’d win against the Empire’s Supreme Commander. 

“My wife has been dead for nearly twenty five years, General.”

 _Oh_. Thank the Lord. 

He should have known that Zev wouldn’t be so foolish as to shack up with the wife of Darth Vader. He might have been foolish enough to run off with the Rebellion, but _of course_ he had raised his son to have enough common sense to not steal the wife of the most feared man in the galaxy. He must have simply picked the necklace up somewhere along the way, unaware of the meaning it held, and gifted it to his daughter - 

“The last time I saw this necklace my fool of a son was wearing it.”

And oh.

“Your son, General, is definitely an alpha?”

Oh no.

He didn’t really want to think about his son’s puberty, it had been embarrassing enough time for the both of them. The house had absolutely stunk of alpha pheromones, arguments had been constant (nothing had really changed there), and Veers had very carefully avoided his son’s room at all times. 

But Vader sounded pissed off, and he was starting to get an idea of _why_ , and he would rather avoid being strangled. 

“Yes, Commander, he was an alpha,” Veers said, awkwardly clearing his throat before continuing. “And your son, sir?”

Vader didn’t answer, instead he had dropped the necklace, allowing it to swing back around his granddaughter’s neck. He knelt down, and Veers’ felt the protest on his lips as his hands moved towards her throat. But instead, the Commander grasped the girl’s chin with a surprisingly gentle hand, pointing her face in either direction, judging it, before pushing her chin up to face him. The two stared at each other for several long seconds, before Amira crossed her arms, glaring at the second in command to the Emperor.

“Daddy says you shouldn’t play with people’s brains without asking ‘em.”

Kriff.

What was he thinking? Zev definitely was foolish enough that he might have run off with Vader’s wife. But that wasn’t what had happened. More to the point, Zev was definitely foolish enough to have run off with…

He couldn’t bring himself to think about it.

Vader stood up, though he didn’t take his hand off the girl’s face, his gaze never leaving the girl. When Vader next spoke, Veers swore he could almost hear _fondness_ in his superior’s voice.

“Your father is a fool who does not know his own power.”

This might be even worse than when he thought Zev had run off with Vader’s wife. Because only one thing made sense now.

His son had knocked up Vader’s omega son. 

He and Darth Vader shared a granddaughter.

Before Veers could begin processing that, Darth Vader had swept his - _their_ \- granddaughter up into the air, placing her on his hip before marching off again, leaving Veers to stumble after them.

* * *

Veers was certainly not one to judge anyone else’s parenting style, especially considering where Zev had ended up, yet he could say he found Vader’s techniques… unique. 

“You can have anything you want, young one.”

The young one in question seemed to be overwhelmed by the options before her, and Veers was beginning to wonder if Vader knew that their granddaughter probably couldn’t possibly read the menu in front of her, when the man began reading it aloud. It didn’t seem to help. The girl’s eyes only got wider. 

When Vader finally stopped, the bright blue eyes seemed to take up half her face as she stared at him in disbelief. Finally the girl asked, her voice hopeful.

“Can I have some blue milk?”

Veers barely controlled a sigh. Despite the impressive array of food which Vader was offering the girl, as Veers had told her last night and again this morning, blue milk was not an option.

Vader, however, didn’t seem to agree, simply nodding, before turning to face the poor trooper who had been put in control of their food. The commander certainly didn’t look his usual imposing self, the three of them seated around a round table in what had seemed like the first meeting room which Vader could find. Veers’ was fairly certain it was the first time he had seen the man seated.

“Order some troops to the nearest system for some blue milk,” Vader said. “And make it quick. And send up some more food here, whatever the chef recommends.”

The trooper ran off, undoubtedly to spread the word that Vader had finally gone insane before, apparently, going to fetch blue milk. Veers knew that he too would undoubtedly be involved in the narrative, and barely contained another sigh at the knowledge that the respect that his troops held for him would undoubtedly be diminished by this. Vader, at least, didn’t seem to care. The man had turned back to face Amira to be met with the largest smile Veers had ever seen on a human being. Briefly, Veers felt a stab in his stomach that _definitely_ wasn’t jealousy. 

If Vader was going to be the grandparent who spoiled their granddaughter, _and kriff that was not a sentence he would ever think,_ he was just going to have to be the reasonable one. Someone was going to have to stop the girl from strangling people whenever she couldn’t get blue milk, and somehow he doubted it was going to be Vader.

He turned his eyes back to his grandchild, who was again sucking on that damn necklace, dragging Vader’s attention again to it. He didn’t know what Vader saw there, in the form of the tiny girl, but the man began to nod.

“You will make a brilliant ruler. Like your grandmother was, and your father too once he stops with this idyllic foolishness.”

And oh god. 

He hadn’t even considered that. 

Zev had knocked up the heir to the Empire.

His granddaughter would, according to Vader, one day be Empress.

Veers seriously hoped that whoever Vader’s wife was had _really_ been a brilliant ruler, because he rather doubted that any child that had been raised by Vader’s _techniques_ could be particularly wise. Zev, despite Veers’ best attempts to raise him, was quite clearly a fool. He hoped that whoever Vader’s son was that he, and Amira, had inherited enough of his mother’s temper to maybe balance out his own son’s and Vader’s influence.

Amira, however, seemed more confused by the statement.

“Daddy says he doesn’t want to rule nothin'. I heard him talking to Papa about it.”

At this Vader turned his head to face Veers, acknowledging him for the first time since Vader had picked their granddaughter up and walked away. His breathing was heavy, and Veers had the feeling that if Vader didn’t have the mask on he would be receiving a very vicious glare. It was quite likely the only reason he was still alive was because Vader, likely still shocked to discover he was a grandparent, didn’t want Amira to witness him strangling her other grandfather.

Eventually Vader turned his gaze back to Amira, who was still staring at him curiously. 

“My son - your father, young one - is a fool, who is clearly being taken advantage of by those around him, who were _never taught better,_ ” at this, Veers could almost feel Vader’s glare burning into his forehead. _Goddamnit Zevulon._ Vader however, was not done speaking. “He will, however, eventually realise how foolish his mission with the Rebels’ is, and claim his rightful place as Emperor.”

At least that answered part of that question. Zev, and whoever Vader’s son was, _and that was still a terrifying thought_ , must have met through the Alliance. At least he had gotten part of the situation right. It hadn’t been Vader’s wife who had joined the Rebellion four years ago, it had been his _son._ Suddenly, all the stranglings made a whole lot more sense to Veers: it was, after all, definitely something he could relate to. He had certainly been testy after Zev had defected.

Veers briefly wondered if he should recommend the support group he occasionally attended for Imperials whose children had joined the Alliance. He decided against it pretty quickly. The group had helped him, and he’d rather it was still there next time he felt like talking to other people in a similar situation.

He should probably go to another soon, really. 

Perhaps the Rebels too had a similar support group, where the children of Imperials discussed what it was like to fight against their parents. Perhaps that was how Zev and Amira’s other father - _that was a much better way to think of it_ \- had met.

Amira, however, just continued to stare confusedly at Vader. 

“But he doesn’t want to,” she said. “And Papa always says no one can tell Daddy what to do.”

Vader’s gaze flicked to him again at the mention of _Papa_ and he really wasn’t sure why he was alive at this stage. Vader very clearly wanted to kill someone, and though undoubtedly Zev would be preferred, he doubted his appetite would hold out for long before killing _at least_ one Veers. 

Before Vader could begin killing him though, the door slid open to reveal two stormtroopers. One of them had on a uniform that sat far too oddly on the slight body, far too large for him, though the other’s at least seemed more to regulation. But before either he or Vader had the opportunity to ask what they were doing, Amira was leaping to her feet.

“Papa,” Amira said, causing Veers to start choking. Unless he was mistaken, Vader seemed to have stopped breathing again.

When the girl reached the man’s legs, instead of greeting her the man pushed her behind him, moving to stand protectively in front of the shorter man and Amira. The man in the ill fitting armour did briefly greet the girl, running a hand across the side of her face and pulling her protectively to his side, before speaking, an exasperated ‘ _Zev_ ’ the only thing he said.

Finally, Veers managed to speak, a choked, “Zev?”

“Father,” his son replied, and, _Oh god it's Zev_ and _Oh Kriff Vader’s going to kill him now_. A few seconds passed, before Zev reached up to pull the stormtrooper helmet off his head, revealing the familiar face of his son, with deep shadows underneath his eyes to rival Piett.

Suddenly, Vader spoke, the quietest that Veers had ever heard him, staring intently at the man behind Zev, simply saying, “Young One.”

The other intruder picked Amira up off the ground, resting her on his hip before he moved one of his hands to take off the helmet, revealing a head of shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes, confirming what Veers had already suspected. This was very clearly where Amira had inherited her looks from.

Veers had never been attracted to men, omega or otherwise, but he supposed the boy was attractive enough. Short, tanned, and the same large blue eyes that his daughter had inherited. He looked strangely familiar, and certainly looked enough like the boys that Zev had made eyes at and stuttered around during his teenage years to suggest that his son had a type.

All in all, he looked exactly like what he would expect from someone involved with Zev, and nothing like he’d expect from the offspring of Darth Vader. 

As if to completely destroy any doubt who the boy might be, he spoke, staring defiantly into the eyes of Vader’s mask.

“Father.”

“I see you have accepted the truth. You have been training since we last saw each other,” Vader said. “Your shielding has improved much, but not enough. I knew the moment I found the girl you would undoubtedly be here soon, and I felt your presence when you boarded my ship. You still have much to learn.”

Vader waved his hand, and two of the seats across the table moved. The two rebels stared at one another questionably before sitting down, Vader’s son’s arms still wrapped around his daughter. It didn’t escape Veers notice that Zev chose the seat closer to him and Vader, and judging by the exasperated huff the omega made it didn’t escape him either.

“I am not going to join you,” Vader’s son said, pulling the wooden necklace out of his daughter’s mouth. “I will not turn.”

“I was… unaware of your nature when we last saw one another,” Vader said. “It has occurred to me I may have been… hasty in my actions.”

Zev looked as he couldn't decide to laugh or yell at Vader, while the other boy bristled, “My dynamic doesn’t change anything!”

Vader didn’t reply, simply staring pointedly at Amira in his son’s arms, causing him to tighten his arms around the girl. And despite what Skywalker claimed, the fact was it very well might change things. Alpha's natures were always protective of their offspring, but particularly omegas. And despite Vader's reputation, from the moment that Vader had met Amira, and realised what her existence meant, it was clear that he was not exempt to those instincts. 

"I'm not weak!" the boy hissed.

"I am well aware that you are not weak, young one. Your mother and my mother were two of the strongest people I've ever known, and they were both omegas," Vader said. "However, that doesn't change the fact it very much does."

“When was Luke meant to tell you anyway?” Zev asked, “Before or after you cut off his hand and told him you were his father? Was he meant to sit down then, and say, by the way Pops, I’m an omega? Sorry you didn’t get to pull a presentation party for me?”

Of course the first words that Veers had heard his son speak in years were against one of the most feared men in the galaxy. Clearly, neither age nor fatherhood had matured his son.

Understanding however did bloom in Veers’ chest at the words. Clearly, if Vader had only recently told the boy he was his father, he mustn't have raised him. If Vader had never raised a child previously, it certainly explained his _questionable_ parent skills. 

Before he could continue to peruse that thought pattern, the second part of that statement hit him at full force.

Luke.

Suddenly Veers understood why the boy looked so familiar. It was embarrassing really, with the amount of wanted posters throughout the galaxy that he hadn’t recognised him. In his defence though, he thought he had been looking at a man who was one of the fathers of his grandchild, and Vader’s son. He certainly hadn’t been looking for the pilot who’d fired the Rebellion’s miracle shot.

Luke Skywalker.

The pilot who had destroyed the Empire’s greatest weapon was sitting across the table, unbound. They hadn’t even searched him to see if he had any weapons. Kriff, even if they did bind him, if he had inherited Vader’s powers would it really make any difference?

When Veers had thought that Zev was in the right in the thick of the Rebellion, he hadn’t meant he was actually getting into bed with it. He suddenly wished Skywalker was _only_ Amira's Uncle Luke.

Vader’s son had blown up the Death Star. By comparison, his own disagreements of allegiances with Zev seemed tame.

“I grew up on Tatooine with the last name _Skywalker_ ,” the boy said, rolling his eyes. “Of all people, you should understand why I claimed to be a beta. What do you think would have happened to an omega with the name Skywalker, free-born or not?”

Though Skywalker’s face remained the same, he had pulled his daughter closer to his side. Zev, next to them, had the beginnings of a scowl upon his face. Vader's breathing, however, had gotten louder again.

“If you hadn’t been stolen away by Kenobi, if I had known that you had survived, you wouldn’t have had to hide that,” Vader eventually replied. “You shouldn’t have had to hide who you were, and you certainly shouldn’t have been left on that _miserable_ planet.”

Veers was well old enough to remember enough of the Clone Wars. He certainly remembered the propaganda surrounding two of the Jedi Order’s most popular heroes, and the tales of their exploits. It had seemed that wherever Kenobi had been, Anakin Skywalker had been there too, and vice versa. And apparently, Kenobi had been the one to steal Luke Skywalker away from Vader.

Veers wasn’t blind to the rumours that surrounded the connection the Rebellion’s Miracle Shot Hero had to the Republic’s Hero With No Fear, though he had dismissed them considering the celibate rules of the Jedi. 

But if Luke Skywalker really was Anakin Skywalker’s son, and if Luke Skywalker was also Darth Vader’s son, then that could only mean one thing. 

Anakin Skywalker and Darth Vader had been married.

Luke Skywalker was their son. 

Calling a male omega ‘wife’ wasn’t unheard of, though was very antiquated. He had thought that Skywalker had been an alpha, but it wouldn’t be unthinkable that the Republic had changed the details about their poster boy for propaganda. And the man _had_ likely died around the same time the Republic had fallen. And his military prowess was well known, he _had_ been a good leader. 

He desperately wanted to tell Piett about this - he, Vader, and the hero of the Old Republic shared a granddaughter - just to see if this would make the normally composed man break.

Vader had begun to make a noise that sounded like _he_ was choking, while Skywalker had begun laughing wildly, disturbing Amira from where she had been resting on him. Suddenly, Veers was all too aware of the rumours that surrounded Vader and those who shared his powers, and their ability to _read minds._

“Anakin Skywalker isn’t my _mother_ , General,” Skywalker eventually said, though it still sounded like he was wheezing. “My mother was Padme Amidala. Amira was named after her.”

Oh. 

Well maybe that was better. 

Briefly, he marvelled at the strangeness that was one of democracy’s biggest defenders being married to Darth Vader, before dismissing it. From what he remembered, Padme Amidala had been one of the few good people in the cesspit that had been the Republic’s senate. Even now, she was still used as a martyr, strangely enough simultaneously for the Rebels and the Empire, with each claiming that the deceased Nabooan queen would have supported their cause. Vader, particularly, had been vicious to anyone who had claimed that she would have supported the Rebels, and now the reason behind it was obvious. But by comparison to the contrast between Vader and Luke Skywalker, the relationship seemed ordinary.

Suddenly Skywalker’s words caught up with him though; the emphasis on them, and more importantly, the present tense. Because Anakin Skywalker wasn’t Luke Skywalker’s _mother._

Because Anakin Skywalker _is_ Luke Skywalker’s father. 

Oh no. 

This was so, so much worse.

He had just accidentally stumbled upon what was probably the best kept secret in the Empire.

“I’m sure you’re aware, General, what will ever happen to you if this knowledge is made public,” Vader said. Amira had gone back to sucking on the necklace, but looked as if she was struggling to stay awake. Vader continues, slowly, “And it will not be quick.”

“Father, stop threatening Zev’s dad.”

Veers almost opened his mouth to protest - he didn’t need some rebel defending him - but Vader let out another breath, before basically hissing, “Yes, _Zev._ ”

Vader turned his gaze to face Zev, his loud breathing filling the room. Veers’ son however simply stared back at him, challenging.

“Father, please-” Skywalker began, but Vader didn’t seem to care, cutting off his son. 

“You have no claim to my son or my granddaughter, _Veers,_ ” Vader said, and Veers really never wanted to hear his name spoken like that ever again, even if it wasn’t to him. “He would barely have been in the Rebellion for long when you got him with child. You obviously took advantage of his farm boy naivety.”

 _‘I’m_ the one taking advantage of him?” Zev repeated, scoffing. He looked as if he was about to respond, and Veers was considering the merits of taping his son’s mouth shut, but was cut off by Skywalker reaching out to place a hand on his arm. 

“Zev, please.”

“Are you even married?”

“We’re waiting until we win the war,” Zev said, and Veers flinched. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the casual declaration of the end of the Empire, or because Zev seemed so confident in his decision to not marry Vader’s son despite them sharing a child.

“Are you bonded?”

“Father!” Skywalker protested again, and Veers supposed that was answer enough. 

Vader was tensing his fists like he was imagining crushing Zev’s windpipe, and Veers couldn’t even blame Vader for being angry anymore. His son had gotten an omega pregnant and then hadn’t bonded with him - he might have raised a son who had run off to join the Rebellion but he’d _assumed_ he’d raised a son who had more decency than to do that to anyone, Vader’s son or not. The galaxy had never been a kind place for omegas, particularly those unbonded and with a child, and he wasn’t blind to the fact that the situation had gotten even worse since the Empire had been founded.

“If you are neither married or bonded you have no claim to my son or his daughter. If you are _wise_ , Veers, you will leave and never come back,” Vader declared, continuing as though Zev hadn’t opened his mouth to respond. “The only reason you are not already dead is because my son is foolishly fond of you. But once Luke is on the throne, you _will_ stay away from them.”

Zev opened his mouth, but was cut off by Skywalker finally yelling, “Shut it, the pair of you!”

Amira almost fell off him at the noise, but Skywalker already had his arms around her, passing her to Zev. Veers quirked an eyebrow at the action, quietly amused. 

“Zev, _please_ stop antagonising my father before you get yourself killed,” Skywalker said, before turning his gaze to Vader. “Father, you don’t get to pick and choose when my daughter is a bastard and when she is not. It was _my choice_ to not bond with Zev until the war is over. If you don’t consider my relationship with Zev legitimate, that makes Amira illegitimate too, and I doubt many people will be thrilled with a bastard inheriting.”

“Then they will have to deal with it,” Vader said, like it was that simple. Veers supposed that for a man who had everyone answering to him since the Empire had been founded it _really was_ that simple. 

It was then that Amira decided to open her mouth.

“Papa, what’s a bastard?”

“Your grandfather, Mira,” Zev replied, staring pointedly at Veers. 

“Which one?”

Zev opened his mouth, before glancing between him and Vader, and Veers could see the moment when he decided what he was going to say. Sometimes, Veers really wished he could still send the boy to his room. He supposed he _could_ have him locked up in one of the cells. It might be safer for him there, where he couldn’t run his mouth.

“Both of them.”

Vader moved a hand as if to strangle Zev and Veers felt words of protest bubbling on his lips, but Vader froze when his gaze fell upon Amira, still on Zev’s lap. Zev sent Vader a grin. Clearly, having his daughter - Vader’s granddaughter- in his arms, had made Zev cocky.

Instead of responding to Zev’s words, the Supreme Commander seemed to decide to return to the previous conversation, returning his gaze to Skywalker.

“The throne should have been your mother’s years ago, but you were both _stolen from me_ by Kenobi. It is your birthright, and you should have been raised for this. Amira _will be_ raised for this. But now, you are here, and you will make a far greater ruler than my Master ever has, once you accept your birthright and put this foolishness with the rebels behind you.”

Skywalker opened his mouth to respond, but the door slid open, revealing a stormtrooper carrying a large plate of food and the room fell completely silent. The man glanced in between the group of them, his gaze landing on Skywalker and almost freezing in freezing in the doorway. Skywalker quirked an eyebrow at the frozen trooper and next to him Zev began to silently laugh, before the poor man almost dropped the food, some kind of fish, on the table as he fled the room. Undoubtedly, elsewhere on the ship, the gossip was going to be absolutely crazy, but somehow Veers doubted it could be any crazier than the truth of what was happening here.

Here, Amira was staring at the fish, or more particularly, its eyes and teeth, looking completely traumatised - someone really needed to teach Vader what was acceptable food for small children. The first time Zev had seen a similar dish he had been older than she was and had proceeded to start crying.

“As I was saying, young one,” Vader continued, seemingly unaware of the girl who looked like she was about to begin sobbing. Skywalker too, Veers noticed, was staring at the fish with something akin to horror. “Now you are here, we need to discuss placing you on the throne.”

“I’m going to be sick,” Skywalker said instead, and finally that was something Veers could agree with him on. This conversation had long since passed into an area that was firmly _treason_.

Vader made a noise that was probably a scoff before he continued speaking. 

“Don’t be so dramatic, young one. You are much like your mother. You will make an amazing -”

Before Vader could continue his surprisingly heartwarming speech however, Skywalker let out a warning cry of ‘Zev!’ and Veers found himself with his granddaughter in his lap while his son was pushing one of the helmets from the stormtrooper uniforms they had been wearing into Skywalker’s arms.

When Skywalker has finally finished emptying the contents of his stomach it was to only move his glare to Zev, who had one arm wrapped around the other boy. Considering the boy was as pale as anything, and certainly didn’t seem to have inherited his father’s temper, it wasn’t particularly intimidating, but nevertheless, Zev looked guilty.

Veers didn't like this.

“This is all your fault,” Skywalker grumbled.

Zev simply nodded, and said, “I know.”

“I hate you.”

There was undoubtedly amusement in his son’s tone this time, when he replied, “Considering how we got into this, I rather doubt you do.”

Vader’s breathing filled the room again as he glanced back in between Skywalker and Zec, before he finally pointed a finger at the younger Veers, managing, “ _You._ ”

Zev met the commander's gaze challengingly, before responding, "Me."

Vader's breathing continued to flow through the room, and Veers could feel Amira tensing in his lap. 

“Father, before you continue to murder Zev, can we please just get _rid of that fish_ ,” Skywalker said, his grip on the helmet tightening again. 

A second later, with such an aggressiveness that Veers had rarely seen in his commander, the metal tray and the fish on it went flying through the door and down the hallway. In the distance, Veers held the tell-tale sound of metal hitting something, along with a loud yelp.

Eventually, some of the colour began to return to Skywalker’s face and Vader called for someone to take the helmet away. Once the bucket had disappeared from sight, the trooper who had been unfortunate enough to be given the task seemingly too distracted by it to notice who the bucket belonged to, Vader returned his gaze to Zev.

Amira, still in Veers’ lap, simply said, “Yucky.”

Zev snorted at the girl, and Veers’ might have agreed with her if not for the shock that he was still struggling to overcome. _He was going to be a grandfather. Again._

He wasn’t sure if he should be congratulating the two or taking a page out of Vader’s book and trying to strangle some sense into them. 

Skywalker, however, gave Amira a fond smile, “Yeah, yucky.”

A second later, Skywalker moved his gaze to Vader, leaning forward onto the table to be closer to him. 

“Father, you are not going to kill Zev,” Skywalker said, rolling his eyes. “Force, if you promise not to, maybe we’ll name the kid after you. They’re certainly causing enough trouble already.”

Vader seemed struck dumb by the idea, staring in shock at his son. Zev made a face of disgust at the idea, but didn’t protest it. 

“Surely your Rebellion isn’t happy about the loss of their Jedi,” Vader said eventually, eyeing the boy suspiciously. When he shrugged again, Vader continued, his voice certain, “You’ve been training someone.”

“I wouldn’t really say I’ve been training her,” Skywalker offered. “More I taught her what I knew when I was pregnant with Amira and bored, which wasn’t much mind you, considering Ben only taught me for like an hour, but now I’m pregnant again she’s planning to go elsewhere for training.”

“She’s going… elsewhere, for training,” Vader said, his voice almost disbelieving. And then a second later, he continued, hissing, “ _Yoda.”_

Skywalker glared at him, hissing back, “Get out of my head.”

“You shouldn’t project your thoughts so loudly if you don’t want them to be heard,” Vader said, before softening his voice. “You’re exhausted, Young One.”

“Yes, well, in the last day I have had to protect innocent families from an Imperial attack,” Luke said, glaring at Vader, “Only to find out afterwards that my daughter had gone missing. I have a reason to be tired.”

Veers felt his chest begin to tighten as he managed to choke out, “What?”

He had a bad feeling about what Skywalker meant. He had a bad feeling since they had first identified what was essentially an undefended rebel base, with ships that seemed to be half falling apart. He had managed to push it aside, distracted by the discovery of his granddaughter, but now it seemed he was going to receive confirmation of what he had feared.

“The base you attacked, it wasn’t a military base,” Zev explained. “It was a base for families, for those who have lost their homes to the Empire and who have nowhere else to go, or who have family fighting in the Rebellion. We were there to see the family doctor, so Amira could get her shots and Luke could get a checkup.”

“Zev and I, and a couple of members of our squads were the only ones there who were an official part of the Alliance’s military,” Skywalker explained. “We needed to help defend the base, but we wanted to get Amira out of there as quickly as possible, so I told two of my droids to get her out of there. It was only after we had entered lightspeed that we found out that the ship she was on - my x-wing - had taken a hit.”

“Where is Luke’s ship anyway? And C-3PO and R2-D2?” Zev asked, and Vader’s head snapped to look at him. 

When Vader didn’t respond, Skywalker explained, Vader’s gaze turning towards him. “They’re my droids.”

Vader stared at his son, his helmet letting out a long hiss as he asked, “You left my granddaughter in the care of _C-3PO_?”

Skywalker stared back, obviously confused, and Veers would be too if it didn’t feel like he would be eternally confused for the rest of his life. 

“Yes,” Skywalker asked, “Why? Do you know him?"

When Vader didn’t respond, Veers decided to speak

“The protocol droid has been shut down temporarily,” he explained. He wondered if he should say that was because the droid had been giving him a migraine, but decided against it. “But the astromech took a hit in the attack.”

Skywalker’s face collapsed, and Zev reached out a hand to comfort him. Vader, however, made a noise that sounded shockingly like a laugh. 

“That droid will be fine,” the man scoffed. “R2-D2 would not be one to let a simple hit take him down.”

“How do you _know-_ ” Skywalker began, but stopped himself midway through his sentence as he and Vader proceeded to stare intently at one another, the emotion on Skywalker’s face shifting occasionally. Zev sighed. 

“How’ve you been?” his son eventually asked, as if he had just gotten back from a day of school instead of several years in the Rebellion.

“I’ve been fine,” he responded shortly, turning his attention back to the other set of father and son. Skywalker’s face had become what could only be described as absolutely gleeful, a massive grin covering his face. When the seconds continued to pass without any other noise though, he turned his attention back to his son, gesturing to the two force users as he asked, “Does this happen often?”

“The force speaking thing?” Zev asked, “Yeah, it does. Takes a lot to get used to, but when you’re around Luke and Leia you have to get used to it pretty quickly.”

Before Veers could even start thinking about that - _force speaking thing_ the world got stranger every day - Vader and Skywalker seemed to break their trance. Amira, however, seemed to have emerged from her half slumber at Zev’s words.

“Where’s Auntie Leia?” Amira asked, shifting in Veers’ arms. “I want to see Auntie Leia!”

The familiar term probably wouldn’t have been noticeable if not for the way both Zev and Luke stiffened at her words, glancing nervously at Vader.

“Organa,” Vader said. “Organa is the one you’ve been training.”

And then, softer than before. 

“Sister. She’s your twin sister.”

Oh well.

That made sense.

Veers wasn’t sure if it was just because by this stage he didn’t think anything could ever surprise him again, but Leia Organa being related to Darth Vader made more sense than Luke Skywalker being related did. Looking at Skywalker’s was like staring into the sun. He had met Leia Organa back in the days when the Senate was still a thing, and had been familiar with the full force of her glare. While Luke seemed to have absorbed all the sunlight he could from his time on Tatooine, the tiny alpha seemed to have inherited more of her father’s temper than her brother had.

“Perhaps,” Vader said, “If you won’t take the throne, she will.”

At that, Skywalker began to laugh. 

“Your rebellion is crumbling, my son,” Vader said. “Surely you must know the chances of you overthrowing the Empire are minuscule at best.”

“If you want to help overthrow the Empire, _help us_ . You don’t know Leia, the last thing she would want to do is be the ruler to an Empire that destroyed her planet. If you really believe that we are incapable of defeating the Emperor,” Skywalker smiled suddenly, and Veers could barely hear the sound of Vader’s breathing over his own heartbeat, because oh Force they were _definitely_ about to commit treason, “Then you’re our only hope.”

* * *

He had been right to want to tell Piett the truth. Seeing the man’s reaction to Vader declaring that the Empire’s most wanted was, in fact, his son had the man showing more emotion than Veers had seen in the years of working with him.

And they hadn’t even gotten to the good part yet.

Piett’s jaw was dropping before closing again repeatedly. Finally, the man managed to stutter out, “Your son, My Lord?”

“Yes, Admiral,” Vader said, placing a hand on Skywalker’s shoulder. And between the two of them, impossible to deny the resemblance to her father, was Amira, now clutching the stuffed toy Piett had given her earlier. “And this is my granddaughter.”

It occurred to Veers that this might be the first opportunity that Vader had had in years, _possibly ever,_ to claim someone as his family. The man certainly seemed proud enough. The thought however didn’t seem important though, when Piett’s eyes caught on Veers’ own, glancing between him, Zev, and Amira, and then to the two Skywalkers. He looked as if he had been shot.

When Vader’s finally noticed what held the man’s attention, the man let out a noise that might have been a sigh. 

“And _that_ is Veers’ offspring, the riff-raff which my son foolishly decided to reproduce with,” Vader said. Luke turned an accusing gaze upon his father, and eventually the man continued, sounding very put out. “He is also my future son-in-law.”

Piett looked like he might faint, appearing to be on the verge of hyperventilating, and Veers couldn’t even blame him. When the thought of Zev as Vader’s _son-in-law_ entered his head, he certainly felt like he might be ill. The admiral, however, still held his back strong.

“Yes, My Lord,” Piett managed.

Vader nodded at the man, and Veers’ wondered if he simply didn’t know what his words were doing to the Admiral, or if he simply didn’t care. 

Or, perhaps, the man, like Veers, was simply enjoying the visible shock on the normally infallible man’s face. It would certainly explain the near laughter Veers thought he could hear in his voice, as he leaned forward again to speak to Piett.

“Admiral, we would like your assistance with killing the Emperor.”

**Author's Note:**

> The basics of this idea have been going around in my head for literal years because I literally just wanted Vader to freak out over having an omega son and a grandkid. Originally when I set out to write this it was going to be Han, but then I decided that I didn't like the age gap, so then I was messing around with Ezra concepts when I found tagandtaylor's Luke and Zev works. And I was inspired, so I figured I'd just try and get it out like the hundreds of other concepts I've started writing and eventually grew bored of before finishing, but obviously that didn't happen and I ended up with this. Tagandtaylor, if you're out there, I'm sorry. Love your work. 
> 
> I haven't really written anything in years, but obviously quarantine is getting to me so I am back, and I hope you enjoy it! I'm also currently in the midst of writing a Groundhog Day inspired Luke and Vader fic, so hopefully that will be up in a week or so too.
> 
> 12/9 - fair warning, I haven't actually given this a proper edit yet, but it is 2.30 in the morning and I just really need to stop but I also promised myself I'd get it posted tonight. I've gone over it a few times but I am struggling to stay awake, and I'll give it a proper go over tomorrow but if anyone sees anything please let me know!


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